


The Sun Sets Longer (Where I Am From)

by JuliaRose12



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Painting, Sunsets, lots of metaphors about warmth and the sun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 07:13:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12127257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaRose12/pseuds/JuliaRose12
Summary: Adam didn't really expect complete productivity when Ronan suggested that they work on his art project in one of his barns, but with Ronan's lips pressed against his, he really doesn't mind.





	The Sun Sets Longer (Where I Am From)

**Author's Note:**

> my best friend asked me for pynch + goofing around at the barns, and this is what happened. i have to admit that it ended up being much sappier than i originally planned. (title is from suburbia by troye sivan). thank you for reading, and feedback is always much appreciated!

“Whose idea was this anyway?” Ronan lies flat on his back, his question echoing through the barn and tangling with the strips of mid-day sunlight that float through the rafters. His voice doesn’t contain any malice though, and there’s a clear lack of discontentment in his tone. Adam scowls at him nonetheless, rolling a long strip of thick paper out across the ground and over Ronan’s outstretched legs.

“Yours, and you’re crinkling my project,” Adam sighs, but it’s nothing more than mock annoyance. He leans back on his heels and straightens the paper, watching as Ronan shifts his gaze to Adam, tracking his slow movements and following his motions with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” Adam doesn’t even try to hide the blush blooming over his cheeks. The way Ronan looks at him, the way Ronan’s always looked at him, is just so different and distinct, and it never fails to tug at his heart in a way that nothing else can. Being Adam Parrish has always meant subtle looks of pity, people holding “how can I help” and “is there anything I can do” on the tips of their tongues. It’s meant finding a way to say no that won’t leave people with the wrong impression of him, and trying to navigate through a world of expressions that undermine exactly who he’s always tried to be.

There has never been a single moment though, where Ronan looked at him in a way that made him feel like any less than the man he is. Anyone who doesn’t know Ronan further than meeting him in passing only knows his angry scowl, or his menacing glare, both of which hold a fierceness that’s so utterly Ronan that Adam can’t help loving them. But his softer gazes are only known to few, and Adam knows now that he’s one of them. It’s the way Ronan is looking at him right now, some awed kind of worship in his eyes, and yes, Adam is going to blush over it without feeling any shame.

“Nothing,” Ronan finally answers, rolling his neck back so he’s staring up at the gaps in the rafters again. “Am I not allowed to just stare at my boyfriend every once in awhile?”

“You’re allowed,” Adam laughs, and the lightness that has found a home in his chest over the past few months is a feeling that he truly hopes will never go away. “You can stare at me all you want, but we still need to paint.”

It was last week, as Adam listened to Ronan’s heartbeat settle beneath a cocoon of sweat-soaked sheets, that he had brought up the upcoming project for his art elective, Fundamentals of Painting. “Way to choose a good after-sex topic, Parrish,” Ronan had deadpanned into the darkness, only losing his stoic front and laughing once Adam smacked him in the chest. Ronan had suggested one of his quieter barns as a place to paint a few minutes later, which has since led to Adam sitting on a thin layer of straw as he picks out brushes and organizes plastic cups filled with different colors of paint.

“In a minute,” Ronan stretches his arms back behind his head, using them as a pillow as he pokes at Adam’s thigh with his toe. Adam looks up from his brushes and resists the urge to throw one at Ronan’s forehead, because the smirk on his face is somehow endearing and frustrating at the same time. “Come over here.”

Ronan had managed to lower the pitch of his voice considerably on those last three words, and Adam gnaws on his lower lip as he pushes himself up to his knees and crawls over to where Ronan is lying on the ground.

“Closer,” Ronan catches Adam’s eyes at the exact moment that the barn starts to feel much, much warmer, and Adam stops with his knees on either side of Ronan’s hips. Ronan’s hands ghost over the sides of Adam’s waist where Adam is kneeling above him, but then he switches their target and grips Adam’s collar, slowly tugging him down by his shirt until Adam’s lips are hovering mere inches above his.

“Hi,” Adam breathes out, trying to mix playfulness and seduction into his tone. It must work, because Ronan makes a noise that sounds like a mix between a laugh and a soft gasp before he leans up and closes the distance between them.

Being Adam Parrish now means kissing Ronan Lynch, always and often, and there is no doubt in Adam’s mind that it’s one of his favorite things about his life. He could never rank their kisses, never choose between the passionate and rough ones that start a fire in his stomach, or the lazy and slow ones that Ronan wakes him with as the sun rises, or the endless other types in between. This one, though, is one that he’s going to be thinking about for a long, long time. Ronan’s hands have moved to his back, their chests are flat against each other, and every time Adam pulls back to breathe, Ronan is whispering his name. Adam, Adam, Adam, like a mantra, and the only word that Adam can think to use to describe it is holy.

When Ronan starts tugging at Adam’s t-shirt, Adam complies, and pulls it over his head in one smooth and fluid motion. Ronan runs his hands up and down Adam’s sides as Adam continues to kiss him, moving everywhere from his lips to the sides of his mouth to the space between his eyes. He brushes his thumbs over Ronan’s temples, and through the rapid breaths and hands grazing over warm skin, Ronan smiles, and Adam swears he’s never going to feel a love this strong for the rest of his life

It’s everything lazy and calm and everything fiery and fervent all at once, and when Adam pulls away, panting against Ronan’s chest, he keeps his ear pressed to Ronan’s heart until he can feel it steadying. Ronan’s fingers trace lazy patterns over the muscles of Adam’s back, and Adam is almost certain he isn’t imagining it when Ronan’s fingertips brush over his skin in the shape of a heart. 

“It’s hot as fuck in here,” Ronan’s voice breaks the silence once their breathing has almost entirely evened out. Adam can’t help the laugh that breaks through the calm, because he is so utterly and purely happy, and he shifts his position on top of Ronan and kisses his chest.

“So I’m the one who’s terrible at choosing post-kiss conversation topics?” Adam teases, and Ronan takes one of Adam’s hands and starts kissing his knuckles one by one.

“Yeah, still you. But you have a couple hours to think of a good one to start us off after we finish our fun later.”

“Oh, do I?” Adam wipes the lingering beads of sweat off of Ronan’s forehead with his thumb as he sits back, rolling off of Ronan and onto the paper for his project, which is now crinkled beyond any hope of saving. “I guess I’ll just have to think while we paint.”

He expects an argument, but Ronan catches the paintbrush that Adam tosses to him and sits up, reaching for a cup of paint filled with a pale orange. He studies it for a moment, glancing between Adam and the varying colors that are scattered across the area, before he dips his brush into it and paints a gentle orange streak across Adam’s forearm.

“This one reminds me of you?” It sounds like a question, and Adam turns his head as Ronan continues staring at the paint on his brush. “The color, I mean.”

And that is enough. Ronan doesn’t need to say anything more than that for Adam to know that he means safety, and softness, and the sunset warmth that permeates every moment they spend together. Ronan’s actions have always spoken far louder than his words, and the simplicity of the way he’s sitting on the ground looking from the paint in his hands to the boy in front of him is enough for Adam to know exactly what he means.

Adam answers him with a kiss, leaning forward until their shoulders bump together a moment before their lips do. They paint a sun dipping behind a hill with every orange and yellow they can find, and if the little house they add once they’re finished is the home of two boys sharing kisses in a messy bed, they’re the only ones who need to know.


End file.
